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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538740">Subway Sentimentality</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastaDad/pseuds/PastaDad'>PastaDad</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Archive 81 (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:)), Dan's New Flesh, Tape Cyborg Dan, also i guess Rat is mentioned for a literal millisecond but thats it im afraid, btw nicholas our man our main squeeze is only really mentioned, hes not present in the fic, i have work tomorrow what am i DOING its so LATE, its just Dan lowkey having a small meltdown on a train., tagged teen &amp; up for a couple cuss words, tape cyborg, this is p short n sweet uuhh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:43:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastaDad/pseuds/PastaDad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan One-of-the-Creators-of-A81 Dan (not the in-verse Dan) mentioned in an Out Of Universe ep that he reckons that in-verse Dan (with his 'tape cyborg' parts) would not experience any fuss on the NYC underground/subway for his metal/tape/radio parts. Which I hadn't even considered prior to that ep, but I just love that thought. So here's a fairly brief exploration of that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Subway Sentimentality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I have not touched metaphorical pen to paper in a /really/ long bloody time uh. Wish me luck!<br/>This is for my gf's bday! Happy Birthday, love!<br/>Anyway, I've grown up in England so if I say anything that doesn't fit into the vibes of the nyc subway, then whoopsie. But I hope you enjoy, nonetheless. :)<br/>PLEASE NOTE: Any disparaging wording about Dan's non-organic body parts is a reflection of his mental state within this fictional fanwork, and not intended to harm or cause offence. Having parts of you that aren't flesh and bone, and instead are implant, support or prosthetic, is in fact very groovy of you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cloying air coiled close to him. Crappy paper ads plastered across the walls of the carriage flickered, illuminated inconsistently with every heartbeat of the old familiar subway stutter. Sardines in a rusty bucket underneath the sprawling city… And Dan was slumped on a shitty, worn, sorry excuse for a ‘seat’.</p><p>His… less than human parts… ached against his soft human skin, his squirming insides. He was exhausted.</p><p>He was… exhausted. But he’d made it, right? Nicholas Waters had done it! He was home!</p><p>New York.</p><p>He was home and he was near debilitated and it’d been days, weeks, months, and Nicholas had done it! And he was… not happy. Dan wasn’t happy.</p><p>He wasn’t where he believed he would be. Or rather, what.</p><p>His tapeless, warped, thrumming abomination of a body had come the fuck with him. At least it wasn’t recording his every breath these days, but that was hardly anything to cheers a glass to because he – fucking stupid, ridiculous and optimistically as he had dared – had believed for the most fleeting of moments, that he would be whole again.</p><p>It hadn’t worked. It hadn’t worked goddammit and Nicholas fucking Waters was off sticking his head everywhere it didn’t belong in order to ruthlessly learn that which he shouldn’t know. The man was off to get into all kinds of shit and so Dan can only assume that this is his life now. No such luck, as to get what he had wanted – needed, even – all this time.</p><p>Like vertigo his innards swerved and drooped at the harsh turn of the tracks.</p><p>Not to be a broken record (Ha!) but his sore apathetic fatigue ran deep, dark. He felt reckless. Dan’s blood sluggishly pounded with a growing disregard for his (admittedly) weak disguise. He wore a suffocating, truly unforgivable turtleneck that would have made great sense on a eccentric weed like Rat, but will never be mistaken for quality clothing. Patchy, rough, bobbling as it was. A mess, really.</p><p>In this dizzying reality of cluster and noise and sweaty people pressed close, it was suffice to say that Dan was getting real goddamn tired of this paper-thin façade of normality.</p><p>He was tired, hot, grieving a life he will never have again and feeling damn well sorry for himself, and so god help him, he was about to throw caution and self-hatred to the winds of stupidity and fuckingggg-</p><p>God!</p><p>He successfully wrestled the stupid thing off over his hammering head and felt the wet slap of the humid subway air touch his bare neck and arm. He opened his dry eyes.</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>Not one of his fellow train-goers so much as blinked.</p><p>What the… fuck?</p><p>He… His heart took another few rocky minutes catching up to the program that a disaster had not indeed incurred. From, uh, what he had long convinced himself could only end in pain for him.</p><p>And end in pain it did, he supposed, but certainly not in the many ways he had imagined it would because what the fuck not a single one of these slouched suits or heavy-lidded kids had lingered their lazy gaze on him for longer than a wing-beat. And so Dan felt a great tear of pain, of sudden manic realisation and giddy relief.</p><p>Because, why? No one cared.</p><p>Dan was slumped on a shitty, worn, sorry excuse for a ‘seat’, on a thoroughly congested subway car, skittering unsteadily through the musty capillary cluster of New York’s subway.  More importantly, however, was how his inhuman right side gleamed out obnoxiously from beneath his short sleeved top. And he was exhausted. He was also hopeful now, though.</p><p>So when the train screeched into the next station, Dan hopped off. He had a tiny, but irrefutable, spring in his step.</p><p>He belonged again; home sweet home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading :) I hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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